Infinity
by Sojourns
Summary: The constant destruction and chaos brought about by the war was like a suffocating blanket that never lifted. 'Kill one to save one' – if you had the chance to save yourself, even at the expense of someone else, would you take it? HG/DM
1. Infinity

**INFINITY**

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: The constant destruction and chaos brought about by the war was like a suffocating blanket that never lifted. 'Kill one to save one' – those five words caused not only blind panic within the wizarding community but also a sense of hope for muggle-borns targeted by Voldemort. After all, if you had the chance to save yourself, even if it meant at the expense of someone else, would you take it? HG/DM

**CHAPTER ONE – Infinity**

_There is nothing in this world is infinite. No one thing can outlast the general order of life. There__'__d be no surviving natural selection should you be the organism with the unfavourable trait. The dinosaurs were decimated after all in one giant sweep. And evolution will not slow down for the lethargic mouse. No, for the presence of infinity would mean no mortality. And mortality, my friends, is how the world works._

_- Thomas__ James Bradley, inventor of the Bone Crusher Curse, 1987. _

Everywhere there was blood. It clung to the walls as if it were a part of the adhesive and pooled onto the muddy ground in waves. It was what they had intended, a grotesque impression deigned to last a lifetime in memory. It would. They wanted to reorganise the wizard hierarchy to ensure they held the definitive influence. That was just an excuse, however, to drive their thirst for blood. They already had the control and power to suppress all others.

The attack had been vicious, quick and premeditated. In other words it had been a Death Eater operation.

With her mouth gaped open in shocked horror, Hermione regarded the mutilated corpses that were scattered around the Muggle village. They held more of a resemblance to discarded litter then to human beings. Their clothes were torn as if they had been put through a paper shredder and their limbs were either barely attached to their bodies or had some grotesque displacement. Scorched faces stared back emptily at her; millions of memories doused by the curses that had ended their lives.

Buildings were still burning, a testament to how long ago the attack had transpired, and there was so much _screaming _that she could scarcely hear her own thoughts. Not that she had many besides 'oh Merlin!'

There were no death eaters present. There was no fighting. Only dead bodies and burning buildings remained. It was the aftermath.

And above it all, above all of the destruction, the burning and the chaos, roared the Dark Mark. Perhaps the most grotesque image of them all.

Hermione was suddenly thankful that Harry had been called away on a secret mission for the Ministry. With the attacks escalating over the past few months nobody felt the anguish or took responsibility as he had; and the Daily Prophet had done everything but aid Harry with his burden. The article that stirred up the most unrest ("Potter Abandons Our Side") was written by none other than Rita Skeeter. Yet even when the report was labeled "madness" by the Minister himself it did nothing to diminish Harry's guilt. Hermione desperately wished that she could take the heavy burden from her friend, if only for a little while, but she knew she could not. It was not her prophecy. The heavy weight was not transferable to her shoulders, no matter how much she willed it.

Ensuring that her feet were well aware of the precarious danger they were in, Hermione concentrated on making her way towards Ron without stepping on any _terra mei - _a wizards equivalent to a land mine. To Hermione they were another example of a wizards interpretation on a muggles invention - another piece of evidence that _should _be diminishing the increasing prejudices in the wizarding community. In the book 'Wizarding Warfare; Our History', however, it was claimed to be the creation of Benjamin Earnst, a famous wizard who produced masses of weapons for the 1896 War against the Trolls. A falsity that would serve to fuel such narrow-mindedness.

.. Not that she was particularly proud to claim _terra mei _as her ancestors creation.

"It shows that it is humans in general who are their own worst enemy, wizards and muggles alike." She murmured as she knelt behind a protruding piece of macrocarpa - perhaps once belonging to a highly fashionable door - where Ron was currently situated. Its splinted wood reminded her of the disfigured bodies she had passed.

Ron barely acknowledged her; instead he kept his eyes focused on something that she could not distinguish over the tall piece of wood. Before Hermione had the opportunity to see what was capturing his attention Ron asked about Harry.

"Harry is not here." Hermione replied. As she did so, she performed a _confuto_ spell to ensure that their conversation could not be overheard by unwanted ears.

"I know that." Ron snapped. His face was pale and covered in grime. "I meant did you find out where he is?"

Hermione sighed. "He covered his tracks this time. I found no traces of apparition or…"

"So we have no idea where he has gone." It was a statement, not a question. Hermione was not surprised by his terse or short tone. They had previously discussed their strong dislike of Harry going off by himself without any knowledge of where he was. While Harry proclaimed it was necessary to keep them both safe, they had both disagreed profusely.

"He'll be safe. He always is."

"It's escalating Hermione. It's getting more brutal, more dangerous. Harry needs other people. He can't do this by himself."

"I know that. But it's a mission from the Ministry. What do you think Harry should do? Not take it?"

Ron's silence was an answer in itself. She knew he believed that the Ministry had done nothing to aid them in the war. It was a dangerous proclamation – one that could see him imprisoned if it was heard by the wrong ears. A lingering silence presented itself then between the two friends.

After a while Ron turned tired, somber eyes on her. "I was here you know, when the attack broke out."

"What?" Hermione blanched. "But the Ministry only knew about it five minutes ago."

"I know." Ron said. "I sent them the anonymous tip." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "But the attack happened so fast. Nobody could have got here in time to stop it."

Her mind was awhirl. Had Harry known about the attack? Had he send Ron here? It seemed unlikely that Harry would send Ron, however, given the precarious situation.

"I'm glad you weren't there to see it," Ron said suddenly, snapping her attention to him like a lightening bolt. "The attack I mean." He was looking over the tall piece of wood again but she did not need the eye contact to feel his pain. It was radiating off him. "It was... it was a bloody massacre." Ron looked hard at her then and she felt as though she'd been stabbed. Twice. "Nobody deserves to die like that." His face was pale – perhaps even more so then when she had first seen him.

There were so many things she could have said to comfort him and yet she felt there was so little to say. If the sight of the remains of the attack had made Hermione nauseous, she could only imagine what it must have been like to be a part of it.

"How?" She managed to question after what seemed like minutes passing yet was only a few seconds.

Ron appeared to understand what she was asking. "I got a message from... someone. They said to come here." Ron scrubbed a hand over his face, again, and then ran it through his dirty, red hair.

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together contemplatively.

"Don't Hermione. Don't sit there and try to work this all out. I cannot tell you even if you guessed."

More secretes. It was bad enough that Harry was keeping everything from her, but now Ron too? She knew that they did so mainly to protect her but that fact alone only served to anger her further. She was an asset to them – she had proven that many times over. Enough was enough. She was sick and tired of them risking their lives – putting themselves in more danger – just to ensure that she was out of it. "You could have been killed Ron! Do you have any idea what that would have done to me? To Harry? To your parents? To -"

"You think I don't know that? You think I wanted… to come here?" Ron interrupted, his hands flailing around in the air as he spoke in rushed frustration. Frustration that she knew was not solely directed at her comments but to the whole situation in general. To the attack; to the war. "I told you Hermione, I came here for someone. He wanted me to… protect something that he said was valuable to our side. Something that could swing the pendulum our way. I had to come here."

"And what was that?" She snapped. "What was so precious that you'd put your life in danger for?"

Ron sighed. "I told you Hermione. I can't tell you."

Hermione moved to stand up but Ron grabbed her wrist halting the action.

"Hermione, please." Ron croaked. "I…"

It had been many years since Hermione had last seen a tear in Ron's eye. In fact, so long that she could not remember what it had been over. But when the tears began leaking down his freckled cheeks, in a painful silence, the loud shouting of Aurors barking orders around her and the screams of surviving Muggles seemed to disappear instantly. Ron was an Auror, a part of the magical elite task force. He was trained to function as a soldier in direct combat with the darkest of wizards - to be in situations where the choice was to kill or be killed. And he had faced his share of those situations.

These tears had to be a product of something much more...

Her head swam with the possibilities: _Did Harry say something? Had Ron failed to protect what he was assigned? _A sudden thought struck her. She began to peer over the fallen macrocarpa.

"I need you to go." He unexpectedly demanded. The effort he put into those five words were evident even to her. An effort that seemed to sap his energy with each progressive word.

And she was suddenly unable to move, unable to speak, to smell, to hear, or to breathe. It was as though she had been hit by a _Petrificus Totalus_ cast by Voldemort himself. The only thing that remained was the horrible realisation that there was blood.

A lot of blood.

How she had failed to notice it before she knew she'd question for the rest of her life. The blood seeped through his jacket and must have continued to run down his chest like it would do to a door panel. It was heavy, and it smelt of copper. The slow welling of it pooled onto the ground and reached her knelt leg. Somehow it got on her hand. She rubbed her fingers together mechanically.

It was warm and sticky.

It was Ron.

She looked up at him and noticed how he was clutching his chest tightly with one hand and was leaning heavily against the weight of the wood. But he smiled - a slow grin that didn't quite reach his eyes and was obviously painful to do so - and she knew that he did it for her. A bad attempt at feigning comfort. It was the '_I'll be okay look' _that was so obviously a lie.

How had she not realised he was injured? How had she not asked? She had been too preoccupied with the surroundings around her – the death and destruction – and then with the conversation itself. It was so characteristic of her, she thought, to over-think things rather than to look directly in front of her.

"R-," Her tongue rolled around the sound. "Ron I can," _Get a grip Hermione! He does not need you losing your mind now_. "I need to get you out of here."

He either did not hear her comment or was opting to ignore it. "Hermione," He stopped, gasping for breath. She could feel a wave of panic rising inside her as she watched blood pool in the junction between his lips. _How had she not noticed his laboured breathing? His difficulty talking? _Was it that he had been fine before or had she just not noticed?"Percy is over… he's over there. I need you to bring him back. I need you to take him home and get out of here."

Hermione did not know where '_there' _was referring to but she remembered the way Ron had earlier been unable to transfer his attention from something over the macrocarpa and deciphered that _there _would be the best place to start. Still, she was torn between fulfilling her friends request or ignoring it. He desperately needed the medical attention. Yet she knew that Ron would not be willing to leave until she found his brother.

_Hang on Ron, just a little longer, _she willed her friend.

Slowly she gathered herself and rigidly stood from behind the wood - her knees cracking from being locked in the one position for too long.

"… They're making them… ahh, bloody hell it hurts!" Hermione still did not know what curse, or curses, had hit him. "They're turning on each other…"

"The death eaters?" She had to keep him talking. Her desperate search for Percy was coming up short.

He looked up at her and whispered, "Have you… not been listening to me?" Hermione noticed that his lips now held a bluish tinge to them as if their usual redness was being sucked out like a squeezed orange. This was happening far too quickly. She could not think straight!

She had to make a decision. With all the lifeless bodies scattered on the ground Hermione could not see Percy anywhere, so instead she crouched back down beside Ron.

Calling for bandages was a waste of time as any efficient spell caster would now lace their curse with anti-healing charms. It was a newly developed spell addition that could only be reversed by a highly skilled healer. If she remembered correctly it was a Parkinson creation.

"The muggleborns," Ron resumed his weak monologue. "Kill one too save one…" Hermione was barely listening, she was too distracted by indecision, but when Ron went silent her ears picked up on everything. His pitiful gasps as his lungs attempted to inhale what little oxygen it could and the clawing scratch of fingernails against wood as his back arched involuntarily. He was trying to grasp for some leverage to keep himself seated upright.

"Ron -"

"Hermione," A stern voice interrupted her, one she recognised as belonging to a Ministry Auror named Martin Learly. He was tall, aged a few years older than her, and had sandy-blonde hair that contrasted starkly against the three-day shadow that ran along his chin. He seemed to hesitate, as if reluctant to continue the conversation, and with his next words she understood why. "I'm sorry Hermione but we've found the body of Percy Weasley. We're thinking of taking him back to St Mungos along with the few remaining survivors we've found."

She realised that from where he was standing Martin was unable to see Ron. She looked over to her right in Martins direction and finally saw Percy. His long, red hair was sprawled out like tentacles over his face and his body was twisted in so many angles that she just _knew _he was dead. It looked like it had been painful - excruciating even. She wondered if Ron has seen his brother's demise.

She supposed so.

"Tell them…" Ron seemed to rouse suddenly with the mention of his brother. "not to notify… mum and dad." He said weakly.

"Ron…"

"Please." He coughed, spitting blood.

"Martin please do not inform the Weasley family. I'll be right behind you… I have Ron with me."

"Is he…"

"He's fine." Hermione lied.

Martin seemed to hesitate. "Is he bleeding?"

"Yes." Hermione replied.

A look of worry flooded across the young Auror's face. It was not a surprise; both he and Ron had gone through Auror training together three years ago. "Try a _subsisto cruor_ spell." Martin offered quickly, kneeling beside Hermione. "My mother researcher's anti-healing charms and is looking into possible spells which may have off-setting effects. It hasn't been accepted by the Ministry yet or even..."

"Do it." Hermione interrupted, shifting a little so that Martin could get closer.

"I'm not a healer... I can't guarantee..."

"Try it!" She shouted almost hysterically.

Martin took out his wand and swiftly said, "_Subsisto cruor_." A jet of blue light shot out from his wand and hit Ron in the chest where it appeared most of the bleeding was stemming from.

Hermione did not realise she was holding her breath until Martin suggested that she should breathe.

"It seems to have lessened the bleeding a little." Martin told her. "Do you have a Portkey to St Mungo's?"

Hermione nodded, unsure she could trust her voice any longer.

"Okay, I'll see you there then." He placed a hand on Ron's shoulder tentatively. "Hang in there mate." He said, and then he was off.

"Ron," She had to repeat his name sternly a few times before his eyes fluttered back open. "Stay awake." He was deteriorating fast.

Hermione rested a hand on Ron - whose cold skin threw her into a panic – before taking out and activating the Portkey. The world then spun and twisted around her; a blur of sound, colour and roaring wind all combining together in the familiar nauseating occurrence experienced when using a Portkey. When it finally stopped Hermione could have cried in relief when they landed directly in front of a cluster of baffled witches and wizards. Hermione noticed that they were all wearing lime green robes with the embroidered symbol of a crossed bone and wand.

They had arrived in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Five seconds later Ron was being carted up to the fourth floor, home to victims of spell damage.

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	2. Revelations

**CHAPTER TWO: Revelations.**

It had been a long winter. So long that Hermione could not recall the last time when the sun had last confronted the suffocating blankets of clouds and their enveloping darkness. So long, in fact, that the ugly site of the Dark Mark had inevitably become associated with the running of wet, crimson blood on the white snow-covered lawns of muggleborn homes and villages everywhere.

It had been a winter filled with brutality, uninhibited fear and mourning.

It had been such a long winter, and yet, winter had only just begun.

Hermione hugged the jacket tighter around her body and vaguely noticed other people doing the same as the powerful wind threatened to take it captive like it had done earlier to her cotton beanie. She was running, harder and faster than what she could ever previously remember doing; the fractured, crumbling sidewalk of Muggle London a blur as she sought her destination in haste.

Not allowing herself a few moments to catch her breath, she quickly turned a corner - paying no heed as she knocked into something or someone - and came across the rundown, old-fashioned department store, _Purge and Dowse Limited_. The 'Store's' window display had not changed since the last time she had visited and neither had its ability to fool Muggles with its out-of-date disguise.

However it was a constant. And in a world full of inconsistency and irregularity it almost brought a smile to her face.

_Almost_.

It had seemed like an eternity since the last time she had accessed the Hospital this way, usually opting to use magical transportation instead, and she could not fathom why she had suddenly deciding to use it now. Perhaps it had something to do with the panicked way Harry had sounded, or the possibility of being magically tracked from the Ministry. There were many hostile spies embedded within the Ministry, after all. Either way, she was there now.

Hermione looked around discreetly to ensure that she was not being scrutinized by any unwelcome attention. It would be horribly irresponsible should the secrete entrance to the Wizarding World's largest hospital be given away due to her carelessness. Mind you, she thought rashly, there were always spells for those sorts of occasions.

What was is that Ron used to say?

_Rules are meant to be broken, Hermione. Why do you think they invented memory charms in the first place?_

And while she completely disagreed with the argument, she could not fault his logic.

When she found that she could not discern any suspicious activity or possible wondering eyes present, she leant in to 'talk' to one of the unsightly exhibited dummies. It was odd, pretending to converse with an innate object, and no matter how many times she had endured such feelings of foolishness before, Hermione could not help but feel a little ridiculous with the situation.

Like on previous occasions the disturbing store display quickly vanished, as if it were only a thought up phantom, and as it disappeared so too did the cracked streets of London. She was surprised, however, to find that when she stepped directly through the magical store front and into St. Mungo's reception area she was not greeting by the usual Welcome Witch but was instead bombarded with frenzied photographers and journalists from various papers across the country.

"Miss Granger, what happened that night two weeks ago?" A reporter called out, attempting to grab her attention by waving his arms in the air.

"Miss Granger, we haven't heard a comment from Harry Potter yet. What has his reaction been to this tragedy?" Another one interjected.

"... Is it true that Percy Weasley allied himself with you-know-who?" A reporter to her right shouted.

"Miss Granger, any word whether Ronald Weasley has regained consciousness?"

Feathered quills were surging through the air writing titbits of information on anything interesting they could claim to have seen or heard from her. And while she was the best friend of Harry Potter, and therefore many would assume that she would be used to the high level of media scrutiny, Hermione felt uneasy with the attention. Especially given the questions they were asking.

Percy Weasley had mysteriously disappeared a year prior to the muggle village attack – now called the Rushcliffe Attack after the targeted local district - and with no subsequent confirmation of his death the rumours of him being in an alliance with Voldemort quickly surfaced. It was not an unusual proposition. With the war escalating many people had 'swapped sides' believing that it was their best chance at survival. Of course, neither the Weasley family or the Order believed the accusations. The Wizarding papers seemed to publish rumours about false murder plots and accusations of different wizards switching sides daily, and given the close relationship between the Weasleys and Harry it was almost a weekly guarantee that they would feature in some fabricated story. Hermione herself had been victim to the gossip columns on more than one occasion.

But could she be confident to confirm or refute any of the questions being posited? She was unsure. And given the seriousness of the allegations the uncertainty worried her.

Hermione was drawn out of her own contemplations by the shouting of a young reporter to her left. "Miss Granger, was there some sort of confrontation between Ronald Weasley and -"

"Back! Back!" Barked a short, plump man suddenly, interrupting the reporter. His mouth was set in a stern line as he attempted to wade his way through the crowd of reporters. "Let the poor girl through!" Hermione noticed that he was wearing a St Mungo's authorisation tag identifying him as being the Head Receptionist for the First Floor. Perspiration was beading down both sides of his cheeks as he waved his wand – his forearm jiggling dangerously as he did so - setting up barrier charms to ward off the reporters.

"Miss Granger," he said as he approached her, "sorry about all of this. They've been camping here for the past two days hoping someone like you would come through the store entrance..." In the corner of her eye Hermione noticed that the reporters were desperately attempting to counter the barrier charms. "...But I suppose you're used to this entire media circus, being Harry Potter's best friend and all."

Hermione did not feel that she had the energy to correct him, so instead she said, "Thank you for your help -" She re-read his authorisation tag, "Arnold. Is Ron still being cared for in the Carl Mogenson Ward?" There had been talk of moving him to the Janus Thickey Ward where the long-term residents of the hospital were held. Fred Weasley's objection ("Bloody hell, he's only been in here two weeks!") and Mrs Weasley's cry of dismay ("you think he's never going to wake up!") seemed to have quelled the suggestion however.

Entering the 'Carl Morgenson Ward' for what felt like the hundredth time in the past two weeks, Hermione walked down a long corridor filled with bustling Healers and self-watering plants until she reached room 24. The door was closed, which was now a standard Hospital procedure to ensure the security of the patients, and a large white board was hanging, slightly tilted, on the door. The white board looked ordinary enough until it coughed twice, muttered something that sounded like '_next time Malcolm loses a bet I am not ending up in a hospital with these stupid sick wizards_' before demanding "Name!" in a raspy voice.

"Hermione Granger."

The white board rolled its eyes. "You're late, muggle-born witch. The rest are already inside." And before waiting for a reply the door suddenly opened and the white board resumed its initial ordinary appearance. Hermione was unsure what the procedure was if you were deemed a security risk and not permitted access. There were many rumours going around that hinted at some sort of exploding charm. For that reason, however, nobody was willing to test the claim.

"_I had a friend who knew a friend whose friend worked in the 'Enchanted Bits and Pieces' Factory. He said that they use Doxy fairies. If they blow up, well, nobody cares about Doxy fairies." _Justin Finch-Fletchley hadtold her one late afternoon prior to a Ministry meeting.

Hermione closed the door firmly behind her, glad that she would not have to deal with the irritable white board again. _Well, until my next visit at least_, she thought. She took a few steps towards the archway that led into Ron's hospital room but stopped suddenly when the rushed voices of Mrs Weasley and Harry reached her ears. They seemed to be arguing.

"I will not have him subject to such recently developed magic Harry!" Mrs Weasley's voice seemed to shrill in agitation.

"Not even if it would help him? We could find out what happened."

"We wait until he wakes up! He can tell us then."

"But -"

"No buts Harry. The decision is final."

"C'mon mum." Fred, or George (Hermione could not tell which), interjected. "We've been waiting for two weeks now. What if this could help him wake up?"

"We don't know that!"

"It's been trialled." Harry implored. "This will work."

"And what if it doesn't, hmmm? What if this makes him worse? I've read about this so-called trial. Tested on the Death Eater Amycus Carrow wasn't it? Didn't it make him insane?"

"Mum, he was already insane." One of the Weasley twins said.

"Yes, well, what if it made him even more so? We don't know!"

"The spell pulled him out of a coma." Hermione was surprised to hear the voice of Remus Lupin. "A coma that the healers said he would not wake up from."

She heard Mrs Weasley stifle a sob. Two days ago the Healers had called them all into a small room over-filled with boxes of tissues and told them the very same thing. "And what if it costs him something, Remus? How could we live with ourselves if -" She sniffled. "- if something happens? We've already lost so much. I can't lose Ron too."

"Molly, dear." said Mr Weasley. "How could we live with ourselves if we do not try?"

Hermione entered the room to find Mrs Weasley sobbing on Mr Weasley's shoulder. He was stroking her back as she brokenly repeated, "I... I can't lose another one, Arthur! I just can't!"

"I know dear," he replied soothingly. "But you heard the Healers last night. There's nothing more they can do for him. This may be the only chance."

"But Arthur -"

"What do you think Ron would want us to do, Molly?" Mr Weasley questioned gently, taking his wife's face gently in his hands. He wiped away the tears that were water-falling down her cheeks with the base of his thumb. "Because that's what we need to think about here."

"I... I don't know. I can't think."

"He would want us to try." Said Ginny. She was standing beside Harry who had his arm around her shoulder in support and comfort. Her eyes were red rimmed and Hermione could tell that she was trying very hard not to cry.

"I agree." Said Fred and George simultaneously.

"So do I." Said Bill, looking down at Ron's pale face as he spoke. "I cannot sit around for another two weeks and watch him deteriorate further." Hermione noticed that while Bill's red hair was pulled back in its usual tight pony-tail, the dishevelled appearance of it told her that he had not brushed it in a while. "And if Charlie didn't have to go back to Romania yesterday and he was here today I'm sure he would also agree."

'Hermione", Harry said suddenly, drawing all eyes in the room towards her. "What do you think?"

Hermione shifted her gaze from Harry to Mrs Weasley and then finally to Ron who lay prone on the hospital bed. His face was very pale. "I think we ought to try."

Harry gave her a tight smile.

After a lingering silence Mrs Weasley asked, "How long will it take?" Hermione could tell that she was still in two minds about the whole situation.

"The spell only lasts for ten minutes." Said Harry.

"And it won't hurt him in any way?"

Harry shook his head. "But if we're going to do this then we need to act fast. I have everything here and ready." Harry removed his arm from around Ginny's shoulders and made a move towards the hospital bed.

"You cannot do this by yourself Harry." Remus said gently. "You will need another to go along with you as well as an anchor."

Hermione was suddenly reminded of what Ron had said two weeks ago at the Rushcliffe village.

"_It'__s escalating Hermione. It__'__s getting more brutal, more dangerous. Harry needs other people. He can__'__t do this by himself.__" _

"I'll go." She suggested.

Remus nodded. "I'll be the anchor."

"What does the anchor do?" Asked Ginny. Hermione was surprised that Harry had not divulged all of this information to her earlier. _They must have been fighting again_, she thought. Hermione knew that it wasn't just herself and Ron who were getting frustrated with Harry's secretes.

"The anchor connects the people entering the memory to the real world. Without an anchor Hermione and Harry would have a hard pressed time trying to find their way back. Once ten minutes is up – regardless of what point they're at in the memory – I'll pull them out."

If anything, Hermione thought that Mrs Weasley looked more torn then she had earlier at with this new information. "Is it dangerous?"

"Ron won't even know..."

Mrs Weasley interrupted Harry. "No, I mean for you and Hermione."

"There were no complications when Remus, Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt performed the spell on Amycus Carrow." When this response failed to appease Mrs Weasley, Harry added as a reminder, "The spell pulled Amycus Carrow out of his coma."

That seemed to do it. The room suddenly had a fiercely determined air about it, as if those final ten words from Harry had renewed a hopeful spark in everyone present.

"What can we do to help?" Said George.

The next ten minutes were a blur to Hermione. If she was ever asked to recall what had transpired during that period of time she knew that she would be unable to do so. All she could remember doing was looking down at Ron laying prone in the hospital bed and being haunted by the blood that had covered his chest the night of the Rushcliffe Attack.

"Hermione, are you ready?" Harry asked gently, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Was she ready? Hermione was unsure. She was given no time to deliberate her uncertainty, however, as the next minute she found herself standing next to Harry with Remus' wand pointed in their direction. Her nerves suddenly intensified.

The spell was cast, and Hermione's world disappeared in a whirl.

Hermione felt nauseated by the sight that greeted her when the roaring winds and swirling colours had died down. There, only ten meters away from her and Harry was Ron. His usually flaming, red hair was dulled in colour by the dirt and grime that seemed to coat every inch of it, and his mouth was pulled into a tight grimace. His back was slightly hunched as he attempted to apply some pressure to a bleeding knee wound, and he was swaying slightly as if he could topple at any moment should he lose concentration. But none of that was the source of Hermione's nausea – or horror. There, directly in front of Ron, stood Percy Weasley. The dark look in his eyes was evident even behind his horn-rimmed spectacles, and his cherry-wood, 11 inch dragon heartstring wand was pointed unwaveringly at his brother.

"Can they see or hear us?" Hermione whispered to Harry. Her eyes strayed to Ron's wand which was on the ground and out of his reach.

"No." he replied. "But I think we should move closer so we can hear what they're saying." Harry squeezed her shoulder gently before progressing towards Ron's position. She followed after him.

"I'm Sorry Ron but this was the only way." Hermione over-heard Percy saying once she was within hearing range.

"The only way for you!" Ron grounded out harshly; his eyes were narrowed and directed solely at his brother.

Percy did not even appear to have heard his brother. "Think of what they would have done to mum… to Ginny!"

A spasm of anger flashed across Ron's face. "Don't try to justify your actions by using them! You only thought about yourself!"

Percy gripped his wand tighter. "Perhaps initially I only thought about myself. But how can you not see? The Dark Lord is attaining more ground daily! You cannot honestly believe that Harry and the Order can win now, can you? Or are you so blinded by your friendships?" When Ron did not reply Percy continued in a mocking tone. "You should have been sorted into Hufflepuff, Ron."

"And you should have been sorted into Slytherin!" Ron spat.

Percy shook his head disbelievingly. "It's called capitalisation. Better to be a wise man than a dead man."

"Better to be loyal and stand up for what you believe in than be a cowardly snake and traitor!"

Percy's eyes flashed dangerously. "Careful Ron, I could make this quite unpleasant for you." He shook his wand in warning.

Hermione barely noticed Harry taking hold of her hand.

"How could you do this to us?" Ron was saying.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!" Percy exploded. "Two more votes, Ron! Two more votes and I would have made candidature for Minister! Do you know what it was like for me when I found out that my own FAMILY voted against me?"

"Percy -"

"No! I don't want to hear it! Dad and Bill can go rot for all I care. They voted for Sheppard instead of their own blood."

"They didn't want to see you dead! The last three Ministers have been killed by Voldemort if you remember."

"It was MY decision, not theirs!" Hermione noticed that Percy's hand was shaking. "It's all I ever wanted! How many years have I been saying that I wanted to be Minister? Then they go and deny me that opportunity!"

"So you go and be Voldemorts lap-dog instead? Yeah... that makes a whole lot of sense."

"Why you -"

But Percy never got to finish the end of his sentence because a voice suddenly interrupted him. It was the last person she expected to hear, or see for that matter.

"Oie Weasley!"

Hermione had not seen Draco Malfoy since he went into hiding two years ago. She looked at Harry quickly and saw that the same surprise was splashed across his face.

"Not now Malfoy, I'm busy." Percy replied, never taking his eyes off Ron.

"Oh great," Ron was saying. "Things keep getting better and better."

"Shut up Ron!" Percy snapped. "This isn't looking good for you."

"Actually Percy," Draco began. He stood behind Percy with his wand raised. The sleeves of his robes were rolled up and revealed the ugly black ink of the dark mark etched upon his forearm. "Things aren't looking good for you."

Hermione was not sure who was more surprised. Both Ron and Percy blanched, and she could have sworn she heard Harry whisper '_what are you doing?_'

"Wha - what's going on?" Percy asked uncertainly as he turned and looked over his shoulder at Draco. Hermione noticed that all of the confidence in his face washed away when he noticed the wand pointed between his eyes.

"The death eaters are about to show," Draco drawled. "To you know... ransack, plunder, and make a show of these filthy muggles. So I have little time to clean this mess up before they get here."

"The Dark Lord said that I was to -"

"Bring Weasley in. I know. I heard that memo." Draco interrupted. He twirled his wand between his fingertips lazily. He looked menacingly gleeful, Hermione thought. "But you see, I received a different memo."

Percy suddenly looked utterly terrified. "I've done everything he asked! I turned against my own family... I... I... I'm about to bring him my own brother! He promised me power in return. He promised me a position of superiority! I haven't let him down on anything he asked... I... I've done everything I could!" He rambled.

Draco rolled his eyes. "There are two things you need to learn from this situation. The first is that to the Dark Lord you are a pawn. Simple as that." Percy whimpered. "The second – well, actually, I'm sure there are many more lessons here - but the second is that you're not the only one who has the ability to change sides."

_... not the only one who has changed sides. _Hermione was sure she had not heard right. She glanced over at Harry but he appeared to be too interested in what was happening to register her attention.

"Changed sides?" Percy repeated dumbstruck.

"What can I say? I'm a chameleon. Look I really don't have the time to go through all of this with you. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." He paused to sweep his blonde fringe out of his eyes. "Now be a good boy and die with whatever shred of dignity – as small as it is – that you have left."

Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the spell that would end Percy's life. But it never came. "Hermione look", Harry told her.

Ron had somehow managed to limp off the ground and place himself between his brother and death. "Listen Malfoy, if you've truly changed sides like you claim then let him walk."

Draco looked incredulous. "You're stupider than I thought Weasley. Your brother was going to kill you. You realise that, don't you?"

Hermione could tell that Ron was trying very hard to block out Percy's blubbering ("Thank you Ron, oh thank you! I wasn't really going to turn you in. I was trying to protect mum... and... Ginny. Don't let him hurt me. Oh please, help me. Ron please!)

"No," Ron grounded out through clenched teeth. "I want him to be trailed in front of the full Wizengamot. He'll get what he deserves then."

Percy let out an anguished cry.

"Look at the dark mark," said Harry, whispering even though she was the only one who could hear him. "It has became more pronounced."

Hermione could not remember seeing another representative mark in person or in a book that looked so horrible and terrifying.

Draco gave a short laugh. "You don't have a choice, Weasley. They've arrived. You have one second before you die as well."

And sure enough Hermione heard the unmistakable 'popping' sounds of wizards apparating in the distance.

"Ron, Ron!" Percy was gripping his brother's sleeve tightly and was looking around wide-eyed. "The Death Eaters. They're here."

"No shit." Ron said.

Percy looked startled at his brother's sharp reply for a few seconds before he seemed to come to grips with the situation. "You came here for me. I mean, I told you to come." He said.

Ron ignored him.

"Your brother has the Dark Mark. Take him with you and the Dark Lord will know where to follow." Draco seemed to be reading Ron's intentions. It wasn't a difficult read. Hermione could clearly see that her friend was trying to come up with some sort of plan that would see both himself and his brother return home safely. The problem was that they were out in the open, with no reinforcements, and they couldn't apparate.

The clock was ticking.

"I told you to come. I told you I had something that would help Harry and the Order." Said Percy.

"I should have never believed you."

Percy seemed to take the comment in stride. "I know. Ron go. Leave me behind. Save - "

"How touching." Draco interrupted exasperatedly. "Is this what you so called Aurors do all day? Bloody stand around trying to die for one another when you could be saving yourselves!"

Hermione felt a distant pull of something behind her navel.

She ignored it.

"Ron, I want you to know something..." Percy sounded scared but determined.

Hermione could hear the far-away sound of a woman screaming. The attack had begun.

Draco raised his wand. "Use your brain Weasley."

"Kill one to save one. That's what he's -"

"Crucio!"

Hermione had just enough time to see Percy collapsed in on himself, fall to the ground and writhe in agony before the world once again went up in a whirl. She could hear Harry beside her shouting "more time! We need more time!"

But there was no more time. Their ten minutes was up.

When Hermione opened her eyes she saw the familiar surroundings of the St Mungo's hospital room. It looked exactly the same as it had when she left.

"Well, what happened?" She heard Bill ask. Hermione was not sure if the question had been directed towards her or Harry. But neither of them had the chance to respond because Ginny suddenly said excitingly "Ron's waking up."

All eyes turned toward the hospital bed immediately. It was true, Ron was waking up.

"Ronald. Oh Ronald." Mrs Weasley was crying in relief. "Wake up dear. C'mon, that's it."

"And here we thought we were going to have your Chudley Cannons exclusive collectable cards." Bantered Fred.

"What a bummer." Continued George. "We'll also have to put the limited edition pure-Veela Playboy magazine back under his bed too."

"Devastating." Said Fred.

But when Ron woke up he never acknowledged Mrs Weasleys tears or the twins banter. Instead, his blue eyes stared up at the ceiling unblinking as he whispered, "I think I killed him."

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	3. Hold My Hand and I'll Walk You Through

**CHAPTER THREE: Hold My Hand and I'll Walk You Through**

Snow was falling.

Mesmerised, Hermione watched as delicate, soft pieces of snow danced around her in the brisk winter breeze. Lost in the moment, she almost felt as though she was ten years old again when her parents used to take her outside to watch the first of the snowflakes fall. She knew she was deluding herself, and that the transition back to reality would be far worse for having thought of it, but she could not help but picture her parents – laughing – sitting on the little white bench outside of her childhood home. They were not aware of the dangers the world would present in just twelve years time. They did not know that their home would burn down or that Mrs Granger would be a widow in the future. They were happy. Smiling. Content.

It was almost laughable.

She wished things could be as simple and innocent as they were back then. But they weren't. They couldn't be. They never would be again.

Hermione was drawn from her memories by the mournful sobs of Mrs Weasley. Her cries seemed to reverberate around the grave-yard as if they were in a mountainous valley rather than on a small hill in Little Paddington. It was such a heart wrenching, deep, sorrow-filled cry that Hermione could not help but tear up at the sound. It was too painful – not only to hear the sounds of those she loved in distress but also by the memories of her own father's funeral.

She could not hear what they were saying from where she was standing, but Hermione did not have to. She knew that they were saying their goodbyes – all in their own unique ways. Bill was stoic and inside his own head, Charlie was giving a speech, Fred and George were comforting Ginny and Mr Weasley had a gentle hand on his wife's back as she knelt on the ground and wept into her hands.

"Do you think he's going to go up and join them?" asked Harry suddenly.

Hermione turned away from the Weasley family and looked toward Ron who was still sitting in the car with his arms folded across his chest. He wore no emotion on his face.

"I'm not sure. A part of me is even surprised we managed to get him this far."

They had been trying to persuade Ron since dawn to go to the funeral. At first their efforts had been poorly received. By mid-day, however, he was no longer slamming doors in their faces and they'd been able to convince him to come out of his room and travel with the family to the grave-site. However, in all of that time – in fact, since leaving the hospital a week earlier – he had not said a single word to them.

Any of them.

It was as if he had built up a fortress in his own mind and he would not allow anyone access to see how he was feeling or what he was thinking. It was unnerving and very, very worrying.

"Is the Ministry still after him?"

Hermione nodded. "There's a full investigation going on. They want to question him about what actually happened – why he and Percy were there before the Ministry even knew about the attack. I've been stalling as best as I can... but I can't hold them back for much longer."

"Do you think maybe if I came and spoke to them?"

"And say what Harry? You weren't even in the country when the attack happened. " Hermione saw Harry flinch at those words. No matter how many times she had tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault Ron had gone off after Percy he still wouldn't believe her. "It would open up a lot more questions if they knew that you know so much."

"Maybe if I said that Ron had talked to me..."

"Everyone knows that Ron hasn't been speaking to anyone – not even you or I. He's being constantly watched by not only the Ministry but also all of the journalists from papers across country. They'll keep hounding him until he talks." When Hermione saw that Harry remained looking unconvinced she added "That's regardless of whether you come in and speak to the Minister or not."

Harry sighed. "We just need to get him to talk to us. He shouldn't be going through all of this alone." He ran a frustrated hand through his messy, jet-black hair.

"I know." Hermione pulled her jacket tighter around her body trying to ward off the breezy chill. But she knew it was pointless. The weary feeling in her bones and the shudders that raked through her body had nothing to do with the cold. She had, after all, put warming charms on her jacket just this morning.

_... I think I killed him._

Nobody had spoken about Ron's words since they'd left the hospital. They had asked incessantly about it once Ron had been cleared by the Healers ("It's a miracle", a Healer had said when informed about Ron waking up "a real miracle!"), but when he gave them no answers they soon realised that the only way they would obtain the truth was when he was ready. It was an agonising wait.

"Do you think I should have gone with Ginny to the grave?" Hermione saw that Harry was watching Fred and George with their arms around Ginny worryingly.

Hermione didn't really know what to say. She had asked Ginny that morning how she was feeling about Harry staying behind to be with Ron. She hadn't exactly given a direct answer ("If that's what he wants to do then that's what he's going to do"). Ginny was still annoyed at being kept in the dark about all of Harry's doings it seemed. Still, Hermione didn't think that now was the time to bring that particular issue up, so instead she said, "The family have asked us to try and convince Ron to say goodbye. I'm sure she understands." He seemed to relax a little with her reassurance.

"I'm just not sure how we're going to be able to convince him to do that." Hermione said.

"Would you want to say goodbye to a brother who was about to hand you over to Voldemort?" Harry bit out some-what harshly. Hermione couldn't blame him – she felt the same anger serge through her when she thought about what they had seen in Ron's memory about Percy's traitorous involvement.

But Hermione knew where this conversation was heading. They'd had an argument two days earlier about the very subject. So instead of dilly-dallying around the issue she said, "This isn't for Percy, it's for Ron. Maybe this is what he needs to help him move forward."

"Or maybe this will make him shut us out even more." Harry countered. Hermione knew that he wasn't deliberately trying to start up the argument again; rather he was presenting another realistic possibility. She wished it was like any other problem that she usually faced. And solved.

"But you said it yourself Harry... he needs to talk. If he keeps it all to himself any longer he'll probably explode. Besides -" But Hermione stopped talking when she saw that Harry had started pacing and was muttering to himself.

"That's it... it could work... maybe... it could make him worse... but... yes... I think so..." he was saying.

Hermione let him ramble on until he had come to whatever decision he was mulling over. She was half expecting him to come back with some retaliating counter argument but instead he said "I think I have a plan but you're going to have to trust me."

He had already started walking towards the car before Hermione had the chance to fully comprehend what he had just said. She followed after him a second later.

When they reached the car they saw that Ron had not moved. He still sat looking forward with his arms crossed, his expression void of any emotion. He looked... stupefied.

Harry opened the car door. "C'mon, I've decided that you really need to go do this." Hermione wasn't sure Ron had heard Harry until she saw his jaw clench.

"Harry -"

"It'll be good for you." Harry interrupted her. "You can say your respects and everything." Hermione nearly blanched at his directness.

Hermione could tell that Harry was about to open his mouth to say more but the crunching sounds of boots on snow stopped him. The Weasley family had returned. Hermione noticed that all of their faces were pale and their eyes were very red – all except Bill who appeared to be taking charge and leading the family. "Everyone in the car." He said, giving Ginny's shoulder a little squeeze as he did so. "I've told Fleur we'll be home soon so hopefully there's some hot chocolate boiling already."

"Hot chocolate," Hermione heard Fred mutter as he jumped into the car. "Fire-whiskey is more like it."

Hermione was about to follow him into the car when suddenly Mrs Weasley grabbed her arm and gave her a pleading look. "Please Hermione, give it one more try!" But Hermione didn't have to do or say anything. Hearing those words Ron had thrown himself from the car shouting "Oh bloody hell! Alright!" And then marched toward the grave. Hermione quickly gave Harry a look before they both darted off after him.

Ron was already at the grave before they reached him. Hermione saw that he was looking down at the tombstone that read '_Percy Weasley: Beloved son and brother'_ with a distant look on his face. He was still locked behind his fortress it seemed.

"It was nice of your mum and Ginny to put flowers on his grave," Harry said. "Look, they change colour every minute."

Ron's eyes narrowed.

"Beloved son and brother – quite touching isn't it?"

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Ron would never forgive Harry for this. "Stop it!" She hissed.

"Did you want me to say a few words? I remember Percy once said - "

"Enough." Ron grounded out through clenched teeth.

Harry took a step forward. "What's the matter Ron? I thought we were here to pay our respects?"

Ron whirled around, his eyes ablaze. "Don't tell me what I'm here for!"

"Then you tell me."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

Hermione watched as Harry took another step forward, bridging the gap between him and Ron.

_I think I have a plan but you're going to have to trust me, _Harry had said. Hermione did trust Harry, but she also knew that he would go to any length to bring his friend back – even if that meant doing some damage in the process.

"Right," said Harry, "Because that strategy is working really well for you is it?"

"I guess I'm just taking a leaf out of your book Harry. After all, keeping secretes is what you do best."

Harry appeared to be caught off guard with that comment. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Now it was Ron's turn to take a step forward. Theywere now barely inches apart. "You know what it means. You run around all over the country doing secrete missions for the ministry and the Order while we have no idea where you're going or what you're up to."

"I've told you all that's it's for your safety!" Harry defended.

"Bollocks! We're about as safe as a Churball in a Horntail pen regardless of whether you tell us things or not." Ron eyes flickered down to the grave. "Clearly."

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before running off alone chasing after Percy."

Ron went wide-eyed for a second before he drew his hand back and then punched Harry hard in the face.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified. Although there was a rational part of her that knew Harry had deserved it – probably wanted it even.

"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?" Ron screamed at Harry. "HE WAS MY BROTHER!" Hermione watched as he picked up a charmed 'Minister' plaque that Charlie had placed next to the tombstone earlier and as he threw it across the graveyard. He then took out his wand and set fire to the flowers that had just turned a lilac colour.

Hermione moved to stop him but Harry wrapped his arm around her waist preventing her. "Let him get it out." He said, rubbing his cheek. Hermione could already tell that it was going to leave a nasty bruise.

Ron let out a horrible wail of a scream and then continued to shout, "YOU LIED TO ME! YOU LIED TO THE FAMILY!" He was no longer addressing Harry. He had fallen to his knees and was tearing up the grass with his bare hands. "YOU WOULD GIVE UP EVERYTHING JUST FOR SOME PATHETIC PROMISE AT POWER. YOU... YOU..." Ron started pounding his fists against the ground. "YOU TRAITOR!"

Hermione felt a lump in her throat. _Be strong_, she told herself.

"YOU SELFISH, INCONSIDERATE, POWER-HUNGRY TRAITOR!"

Harry moved and put a gentle hand on Ron's back. Hermione feared that Ron would lash out again but instead he put his head in his hands and began to sob quietly.

She could not remember how long they stayed there like that. Just the three of them. It wasn't until Bill came up and told them that they had to leave ("the protection spells around this place wear off at night.") that she realised the sun had begun to set.

They hardly said anything as they walked back to the car, but Hermione could feel that there was a slight change in Ron. That perhaps the fortress had begun to crumble. His face was no longer expressionless, instead he appeared incredibly tired, and he walked along by their side comfortably rather than trudging behind.

Harry seemed to notice the change too. He took a gamble and said, "You socked me a good one."

And even though Ron's grin did not reach his eyes, Hermione could have cried in joy when he replied, "Yeah... yeah I guess I did."

They were greeted at the burrow by Fleur Delacour, and even though her long blonde hair had been quickly whipped into a pony-tail she still looked breath-takingly beautiful. Hermione hated her for it. "Where 'ave you been?" She asked pointedly at Bill, her hands on her hips. "I 'ave been waiting 'ere for you for hours. I 'vos beginning to get 'vorried.'

"Look dear," Bill said patiently. "We've all had a draining day would you mind letting us past the door?"

Fleur had the decency to look abashed for a minute. "'vell luckily you 'ave a visitor so I kept the hot chocolate 'varm." She said moving out of the doorway to let them through.

Mr Weasley, who was going through the door first, stopped abruptly. "A visitor?" He asked, taking out his wand.

"A friend of 'arry's." Fleur confirmed. "'ve 'ave been talking for 'ours."

"What does he look like?"

"'ee told me you 'vould ask me that. 'ee said to keep it a surprise."

Mr Weasley took Fleur by the shoulders. "This is important; do you know who he is?"

Fleur looked stunned for a minute. "'vell of course. 'ee is my cousin. 'vell very distant cousin. Veela can always tell family. You can tell by 'is beauty." When she could see that this did not seem to appease everyone she continued. "'ee 'as assured me that you and 'ee are friends, 'arry. 'ee isn't lying, I could tell."

"Oh great," Hermione could hear Ginny mutter under her breath. "Because we're all feeling so reassured now."

"What's his name Fleur?" Bill asked quite sternly.

Fleur pouted as if he had ruined some big game. "'vell Draco of course!"

There was a sharp intake of breath. "As in Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes. I 'ope you don't mind Molly but I gave 'im one of your - "

"Molly, take Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Harry away from here. The rest of you boys come inside quickly. Wands drawn." Said Mr Weasley. "Remember he's wanted by the Ministry so try to stun him. But remember, safety comes first."

"... muffins" Fleur finished, though nobody was listening.

"WAIT!" Harry shouted after them, dodging Mrs Weasley's hand that was aiming for his arm. "WAIT! This is a mistake!"

Hermione watched as Harry ran through the front door of the burrow, quickly followed by Ron. She and Ginny raced in behind them, ignoring Mrs Weasley's shout of "Harry! Ron! Ginny! Hermione! It's dangerous!"

But when they all entered the small, cluttered living room Hermione could not think of a less dangerous situation. Mr Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George all had their wands aimed at a blue one-seater couch where Draco Malfoy sat eating a chocolate chip muffin. An empty hot chocolate mug sat on a little coffee-table beside him.

When he looked up and saw Ron enter the room he appeared, Hermione thought, almost disappointed. "What a shame," Draco drawled, glancing down at his fingernails as if he hardly cared that all of the wands in the room were trained on him. "And here I was thinking that it was _your_ funeral Weasley. No wonder everyone is upset."

**Author's Note: I can see that there is quite a bit of interest in this story which is very encouraging. However, I would really appreciate it if some of you could review! :) It would certainly make my day! Also, I know that so far we have seen little of our favourite Slytherin. Don't worry, from now on he's a main feature. He does, after all, happen to be my favourite character. So fear not - lots of Draco to come!**

**So please, make this author happy and push that review button! Don't be shy ;)**


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